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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156779">When Doves Cry (the bleeding heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/akindofmerrywar/pseuds/akindofmerrywar'>akindofmerrywar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bird Jaskier, Confessions, Cursed Jaskier, Curses, M/M, Magic, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Realisation, Transformation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:41:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/akindofmerrywar/pseuds/akindofmerrywar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s packing up camp the next morning when there’s a fluttering sound behind him, followed by a low coo. He turns, and the dove stares at him from a high branch. It ruffles its feathers, preening, then coos again.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Hello.”</i>
</p>
<p>Geralt descends the mountain alone. Alone, that is, save for a little bird with a blood-red stain on its chest, refusing to leave his side. With his new companion singing as they travel, he can't help but be reminded of the person he left behind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Abby's Witcher Collection, Geralt is Sorry</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When Doves Cry (the bleeding heart)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Русский available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30404526">When Doves Cry (the bleeding heart)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinky_Kid/pseuds/Kinky_Kid">Kinky_Kid</a>
        </li>


    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes Geralt three days to get back down the mountain. Without even Roach for company, time passes in blessed silence.<b><br/>
</b></p>
<p>He hates it. It’s ironic - without Jaskier’s constant chatter, all he can hear are his own thoughts. All he can hear are his own awful words, echoing back at him.</p>
<p>The sun is setting on the third day and he’s traversing the broken ground at the foot of the mountain when he spots the little bird. He thinks it’s wounded, at first - there’s a bright splash of red against its cream-coloured chest. He approaches cautiously, but it soon becomes clear that the crimson is part of its plumage. It’s a bleeding heart dove - an unusual bird to see in this part of the country.</p>
<p>It coos at him, softly, watching him with its beady eyes.</p>
<p>“Hmm.” He moves on, cutting through the undergrowth.</p>
<p>He’s packing up camp the next morning when there’s a fluttering sound behind him, followed by a low coo. He turns, and the dove stares at him from a high branch. It ruffles its feathers, preening, then coos again.</p>
<p>“Hello.”</p>
<p>It flaps down from the tree and lands on a nearby bush, a little unsteadily. It continues to stare at him. Geralt shakes his head - it’s just a <em>bird</em>, for fuck’s sake. There’s <em>hundreds </em>of birds in this forest.</p>
<p>He collects the rest of his things, slings them over Roach’s back and leads her through the trees, heading North. The ground here is still too uneven to ride her without risking her twisting a leg, so they make their way slowly over rocks and fallen trees. </p>
<p>He doesn’t turn around, but he can hear the fluttering sound of the little bird following him. </p>
<p>When he stops to eat at midday, sitting on a fallen tree, the dove perches three or four yards away, watching him. He rips off a hunk of bread from the loaf he’s picking at and tosses it towards the bird. It sets upon the bread immediately, pecking at it haphazardly until it’s all gone. It resumes staring at Geralt, almost expectantly. Feeling foolish, he rips off another, larger piece of bread, and throws it at the bird. It eats it quickly and then, apparently satiated, it flutters up to perch on the tree next to him.</p>
<p>“Right,” he says, frowning.</p>
<p>He’s about to head back on his way when the bird starts singing. The noise startles him - Geralt knows more about monsters than birds, but he’s sure that doves aren’t supposed to sing like that. They’re supposed to coo: but the one that’s attached itself to him is trilling like a songbird.</p>
<p>“Hmm.”</p>
<p>The bird continues to follow him. At first, it hops from tree to tree, but once the ground is even enough to ride again it flies behind them, occasionally looping up into the sky, singing as it goes. </p>
<p>That night, Geralt is setting up the fire, listlessly throwing kindling into a little heap. It’s oddly quiet, and he’s building it more through habit than to keep the cold at bay. </p>
<p>“We’ll need a smaller fire tonight,” he says at Roach, piling on logs, “it’s getting warmer.”</p>
<p>Roach snorts, and Geralt looks up. He nearly drops the logs.</p>
<p>The little dove is perched on Roach’s back, running a beak through its feathers. Roach doesn’t seem to care at all, chewing happily on the grass at her feet. </p>
<p>“So Roach approves of you, then,” he says, raising his eyebrows. The bird coos. </p>
<p>Geralt quickly lights the fire, sets up his bedroll (there’s no need for a tent, no one to nag him into setting one up), and reaches into his bag to see what food’s leftover. He could easily head into the woods to find himself something to eat, to hunt a rabbit or a deer, but when it’s just him out here… It seems a little pointless.</p>
<p>There’s more bread, and a slightly wrinkled apple, and the last of some dried meat. He eats in silence, occasionally glancing up at the little bird. </p>
<p>“Hungry?” He says, cocking his head. The bird doesn’t move, so he rips off some of the bread, rolling it in his fingers. He thinks, for a moment, then places the bread on the ground right next to him instead of throwing it towards the bird. It doesn’t even hesitate, just flaps straight over to him and begins to eat.</p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>Once they’re both finished, the bird begins to sing again. He stares at it, lit up by the flickering fire. He’s sure the little red patch on its chest has grown larger. </p>
<p>It sings for him all night.</p>
<p>The next morning, the bird sits next to the glowing embers of the fire, watching him pack. Geralt loads the saddlebags then pulls himself onto Roach’s back. The bird peers at him.</p>
<p>“Come on, then,” he says.</p>
<p>The bird coos and flutters up, settling itself on Roach’s haunches. Again, Roach doesn’t react. As they move on, the bird starts up its lilting little song once more.</p>
<p>Geralt is almost sure that he recognises the tune.</p>
<p>The day passes in uneventful stillness. Geralt isn’t even sure where he’s heading - just heading North, trusting that he’ll eventually find someone who needs his services. The little bird - the bleeding dove - sings and sings and sings.</p>
<p>“It’s funny,” Geralt says, a few hours after they set off, “you remind me of someone.”</p>
<p>The bird coos, gently.</p>
<p>Geralt stops for lunch, sharing his scraps with the bird and Roach. He watches as the dove pecks at the crumbs.</p>
<p>“Your feathers are redder than they were yesterday,” he says. The bird peers at him, unblinkly. “I’m no ornithologist. Is that normal?”</p>
<p>The bird trills and flutters its wings, shaking them out.</p>
<p>“I see.”</p>
<p>That evening, he lies on the bedroll next to the fire and listens to the bird sing.</p>
<p>He’s woken up by a sudden screeching noise and something battering at his face. The dove is squeaking and squawking, perched on his forehead, flapping at his face with his wings. He sits up, and the bird flaps away, still screaming.</p>
<p>He’s about to swear - about to ask the blasted bird what it’s doing - when a foul stench hits his nostrils. <em>Ghouls</em>.</p>
<p>Geralt is up with his sword in his hand in seconds. The ghouls come bursting out from behind the trees - three of them, glistening and roaring - and he cuts them down with ease. When they’re lying dead at his feet, he turns to the bird, which is perched safety in the high branches of the nearest tree.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>The bird coos. </p>
<p>Geralt gives it a bigger pile of bread when he eats his breakfast. It seems like the bird is moving more lethargically - it pecks listlessly at the bread before settling down.</p>
<p>“Are you okay, little dove?”</p>
<p>It looks at him in silence.</p>
<p>“I’ve enjoyed your company,” he says, feeling silly, “Even the singing. Although I’m sure you’re not supposed to be able to do that.”</p>
<p>As they travel, he continues to talk to the bird, hoping that Roach won’t mind. He starts with the dragon. He tells it about the monsters he’s fought. He tells it about other ghouls he’s defeated. There’s a leaden weight in his chest.</p>
<p>When he makes camp that evening, finally giving in and snaring a rabbit, he tells the dove about Jaskier. It seems like the right thing to do.</p>
<p>“I… was travelling with someone,” he starts. And then it all spills out. The anger. The arguing. The one wish - horribly, finally fulfilled. He doesn’t realise how much he’s been clinging to it until it all comes tumbling from his mouth. It feels good to get it out - and the bird just looks on with shining, judgement-free eyes.</p>
<p>It sings until he falls asleep.</p>
<p>They travel together for five days. It never stops singing, but the little red patch in the centre of its chest grows larger and larger. The lethargy grows too, and it sits beside him on Roach, too exhausted to fly. He’s worried about the dove - although he doesn’t want to admit that. It’s so tiny and fragile. He has to look after it, has to keep it safe.</p>
<p>He can’t fuck this up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The moon is hanging in the sky on the night of the fifth day. He’s left Roach and the dove at their makeshift camp while he searches for food. He returns to the clearing with a couple of hares slung over his shoulder, ready to cook.</p>
<p>It’s oddly silent. He dumps the rabbits on the ground next to his packs. All he can hear is the rustling of the leaves in the trees.</p>
<p>
  <em>Little dove.</em>
</p>
<p>It’s not perched on Roach, where he left it. Roach is standing stock-still, nervously nuzzling at the floor. He dashes over, his heart in his throat.</p>
<p>The dove is sprawled out on the ground, its wings spread, half-buried under the leaves.</p>
<p>The red stain that splashes across the bird’s chest is larger than it’s ever been, the colour spreading pinkly across pale feathers. Its little chest rises and falls. Geralt pulls off his gloves and scoops the bird into his hands: he can feel its heartbeat, quick and urgent against his palms.</p>
<p>There’s a hollow little ache in his chest. The guilt he’s been carrying around since the mountain is growing, weighing down his shoulders, trying to smother him. </p>
<p>“<em>Don’t</em>,” he says, softly, “I can’t heal a <em>fucking </em>bird.”</p>
<p>The bird doesn’t do anything, just lies there.</p>
<p>“I know I’m a bastard,” he says, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I…” he takes a deep breath. “My friend. The bard. Jaskier. I don’t want him to think that’s what I think of him. And… that fucking mountain, little dove, it’s easy enough for a witcher, but a fucking <em>bard</em>? I abandoned him. I signed his fucking death warrant. I don’t want to kill you too-”</p>
<p>The bird is weightless in his hands. He stares down at it, desperate. </p>
<p>“I…”</p>
<p>He can’t finish the sentence. He can feel the bird’s heartbeat slowing, quieting. He raises his hands till his nose is barely an inch from the bird’s chest, from the ever-growing blood-red feathers. He closes his eyes.</p>
<p>“I think I loved him. I think I loved him but I didn’t realise till it was too fucking late.”</p>
<p>The bird trembles, and the quiet heartbeat stops. There’s a stone in Geralt’s chest, pulling him down.</p>
<p>His medallion is buzzing. No - not just buzzing: vibrating, wildly bouncing against his chest, twisting on its chain. His hands are warm and tingling. He pulls back, and the bird’s body is twinkling with a strange, golden light. Geralt gently lowers the bird down onto the soft bed of leaf litter, and the hovering light encases it, swirling around its body like a mist. The forest floor seems to bend and shift, the air thick with magic, building like electricity before a storm. Geralt’s ears begin to ring as it amplifies, pressing on him like water, drowning him, until- </p>
<p>Light explodes from the body of the bird, blinding Geralt. Roach whinnies and stamps as the light pulses and flashes.</p>
<p>It fades, leaving white sun-spots in Geralt’s vision. He blinks them away, the wind knocked out of him.</p>
<p>Lying on the ground, curled around himself, is Jaskier. He’s wearing the clothes from the dragon hunt, now tattered and torn. There’s dark, rusty blood staining his pale tunic. Geralt reaches for him without even thinking, grabs at his arm, places a gentle hand against his chin, turning his face. </p>
<p>
  <em>No, no…</em>
</p>
<p>It’s so, so silent.</p>
<p>“Jaskier.”</p>
<p>Somewhere in the forest, a bird sings.</p>
<p>And Jaskier opens his eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahh, this bird is I think my favourite because of how very dramatic it is. Plus - it's totally wearing Jask's outfit. Which is cool. Come chat to me over at https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/ if you feel so inclined &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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